


When color bleeds

by miumi15



Series: Hidden Faces [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Drabble Collection, Multi, No Plot/Plotless, Original Character-centric, Original Fiction, Original Universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:00:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23085181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miumi15/pseuds/miumi15
Summary: A collection of stories from my story but none of it is in order. Its just moments of the story.
Series: Hidden Faces [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995874
Comments: 6
Kudos: 1





	1. Dont be Scared

Everything will be ok she tells me.  
Everything will be ok i tell her.  
We are not ok.

Just keep breathing  
Just keep blinking your eyes  
Its getting harder

Its blurier and heavier and im sleeping.  
Ill wake up and she wont be beside me. 

The earth screams and i cannot wipe her tears. The water falters and i cannot hold her. The air holds her breath and i was the one who stole it. We are lost.

Faster more desperate.  
It doesnt hurt. I smile, she doesnt. She isnt here. 

She was never here.

She doesnt exist and nor do I. We may never exist again. There is no tangle in my fingers. There is no warmth pushed on my chest. Shapes do not widen and shrink and widen. There are no ears to hear, eyes to gaze, lips to admire. 

The fire has suffacted, we have suffacted, there is no light.

Till the next existence my love.


	2. Petunia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is before the catalyst. Works on the character of yogi.

He bats his hand away from the buttons."No, no, just hold me tighter Witt." There is no change in pressure. So he pushes himself onto the other with more desperation. "Witt, please" he whines. 

"Shh." Witt hushes onto his lips and continues with a gentle hold on the others hips. Anger boils in Yogi's chest, passion fuels it and he bites Witt on the bottom lip and holds it hostage. Witt cries out as blood drips. Yogi lets go but before witt can protest his attention is yanked abruptly to meet yogi's. Yogi's grip on witts chin will leave a bruise but that seems to be the least of Witt's problems however.

The fire has reached his bright green eyes. "Youre not paying attention to me." Witt lowers his eyes away from yogi. Yogi refuses to be ignored and yanks his chin again. Witt makes a grunt of annoyance. But meets his gaze straight on. 

Neither makes a sound, its a challenge for the other to make the first move. Unlike his usually self, yogi hesitates and his green eyes burn into witt's blue. Witt gaze is daring, its not as mysterious as he would of wished and it takes only a minute for yogi to figure out what everyone has been spending a week searching for. The traitor.

"You son of a bitch." Yogi growls still holding Witt's chin. Witt makes no sound or movement to escape. " you son of a bitch!" Yogi yells louder. He yells as if the louder he scream, the quicker itll be for the past to change. The green burns brighter but yogi doesnt use the fire on witt. Instead he throws his chin to the side and yells more. "Do you know what you've done!? Do you ever fucking think?" 

"Yogi-"

Yogi picks up a glass bottle and throws it next to Witt. Its not meant to harm him, its simply a warning.

"Shut up! You fucking idiot" he groans and buries his eyes as deep as he can into the palm of his hand. "You fucking screwed me Witt. You fucked me over and you- you- never think!" He takes out his cigerette and lighter but the lighter wont light so he throws it across the room and crumples the cigerette. 

"I dont regret it."

Yogi rounded back to him. "So I have to!? I have to regret for you? I always have to clean up after your shit." He jabs his finger at Witt.

"Nothing will happen to you Yogi, you didnt do shit." 

"Exactly Idiot! I didnt do shit! You made sure of that!" 

"What are you talking about?" Witt wraps his arms across his chest and sinks down the wall onto the floor.

"Im in charge of you and the other idiot. You only thought of yourself!" 

Witt stayed on the floor but he didnt need to stand to for the anger to be intimidating. Witt doesnt get angry. He gets annoyed, he gets fatigued, but he doesnt get angry. Its not explosive like yogis. Its silent and yogi doesnt understand it placement in the first place. 

"Yogi this may have been one of the least selfish thing ive done. Forget our line of work, that! That was evil and made us just as bad the enemy. We watched in safety while he hurt her every day. Damn the consequence I'd do it again, tell him. Make it easier on yourself. Let amir kill me."

Yogi stopped pacing and lowered to witt slowly. "Kill you? You think, he'll kill you?" Yogi slowly unbuttoned his shirt and made sure witt focused when he tried to turn his head away. "I would lie about it. Tell a fun story, make everyone jealous." He scoffed. The purple line glinted catching Witt's whole attention. "You left 'to search and be a good blood hound.'" Tenderly he shrugged the shirt off thin lines of bright purple and red ran in chaotic paths across his arms. Around his chest was a set of fresh gauze. "Its not just one," he laughs. "He like her, as confusing as it is." 

"Yogi-" 

Yogi shoots him a glare. " No Witt." And he continues to unwrap. "You want death? He wont give you the pleasure." The red lines grow thicker and more mared. There's purple and black and red and green and blue. But theres so much red. Witt gently pushes away the bright strands of Yogi's long hair. Yogi in turn puts it in his usual ponytail. The signs were all there. The thick jackets, the hair being left down, the clothes on whenever theyd- "dont start feeling guilty now idiot. Some of them arent just your mistakes." There were older scars circular on his sternum, but they werent scars they were burns. But it all went dark black as it got closer to where his heart should be. Over it was a single gauze taped into place. 

His body was marred with lightning and burns and scratches from beastial claws. It was a wonder he moved a gracifully as he could.

"H-how?"

"How, what? Hm? How am I still living? Amir needs me. Not me exactly but my role. And i know too much to easily replace. Who knows maybe youll take it when you know enough. He has friends Witt, he cant afford to kill. So he wont. He needs my eyes my hands my arms my mind and my body. So he makes sure it works. He assures me I'll work at the end of the day and I love him for it. I love my role and I dont try to run from it." Carefully and painfully he removes the gauze. A single glowing purple flower with crystals encrusting it are all embedded where his heart should be. "I cant run from it. There's nothing to run too. Im already dead." Witt reaches out to touch him but once again yogi bats away the hand. He forgets the wraps and puts his shirt back on and gets up. He retrieves his lighter and lights a cigarette on his second try. 

He breaths out the smoke and the worry with it. "I wont say anything. You shouldnt either. Let him keep wandering." Witt nods. "She safe?" 

"I lost her so she is." 

Yogi nods."keep it like that." And he leaves Witt to his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes to self:   
> work on witts personality and yogis story.
> 
> Dont make the scenes so dramatic
> 
> Work on the atmosphere and setting.


	3. Coronation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduction of the protagonist and antagonist. I dont like straight forward morals so my antagonist and protagonists are never completely good or bad.   
> I also gave up on this chapter at the end, i lost motivation and inspiration so i might post something else later.

Thunder rumbles through the midnight skies and lightning mixes with screams of pain. Agony is everywhere, and here I sat on my throne. They begged for help, asked for it to all end, they wanted me. And I hid. I wasn't strong enough, but I wasn't supposed to be strong enough. I was just fourteen years old. 

Bright rays of sun shine through sheer white curtains. Shouting, not angry or sad, but boisterous and busy echo through the halls. The bed is warm and invites me deeper. Today is my dad and everyone celebrates my day, but I want it to be my bed's day. I burrow deeper into the pillows and sheets. A knock on the door reminds me I can't hide, not today at least. And not with him, never with him. 

"Your majesty get up, I'm not going to ask again." Calls an annoyed voice. 

"To the dungeons with you!" I shout into my pillow. 

The door flies open and I squeal with terror. Fire all around us, in the towers, in the fields, in the throne room. The next room over. 

The day is bright and the air is clear. He has me fully dressed and under his arm. His grip on me is never loose, he will always have a tight hold on me. "Let me down!" I kick and scream, no one comes to my aid and my head hits a hard surface. "Ow!"

"Oh gosh! My apologies miss highness." He laughs mockingly.

He puts me down and I try not to tear up, "you did that on purpose." I pat my head making sure there's no blood gushing from it. 

"You're fine Matty, let me take a look." He kneels to my height and swats away my hand. "Well, I got good news and bad news." I look into his indigo eyes, pleading that it's not that bad. "Good news is you'll live. Bad news is you're gonna want a really big crown for that big head of yours. Oh wait no! Look at that all gone!" The fizzle of magic and a gift bestowed from a loving god, kisses at my forehead. "I suggest you still wear a big crown, that head of yours always seems to be swelling- ow!" I punch him on the shoulder and he rubs at it. "Cool, great, good, you're nice and pretty for your coronation day and I'm mortally wounded."

I roll my eyes and tell him to shut up, "your wish is my command ohhhhh heavenly empress."

"Amir! Mathilda!" Both jump out of their skin and jump right back in at the sound of their mother's voice. "You're both running late. Amir I sent you to retrieve her not prolong her dawdling. Mathilda, go to the dais the elders want to go over the ceremony with you." I nod but I don't go. I still don't know if that was a bad or good decision. Amir makes to walk after me but he's pulled back by mother. 

"Amir, I want no antics from you or the twins."

"Yes mother," he nods.

"We also need to speak on the matter of that journal of yours. So meet me in my office after the coronation." This time there was no loyal acknowledgement. No yes mam, no yes your majesty. There was nothing. But there's always been nothing. 

I'm hidden behind the wall at the end of the hallway. I want to use the wind to pull the words closer. But mother knows when I use my gifts, she always knows. 

"Amir I'm waiting on an answer and you're making us late."

"You know we could always not talk about the journal and have a wonderful night enjoying Matty's big day." I sit on the floor and allow myself to use the stone gift and merge with the marble floor. What journal? Why is mother so callous today?

"You know I can't allow that Amir. You're a prince and you need to understand the weight of your words written or spoken." 

"They weren't meant for you! That's why it was in a journal, hidden! You don't go through Matty's things!" 

"You will not raise your voice with your queen, and you will stop using childish nicknames for each other. She is your empress after today."

"Ok, you don't go through her oh heavenly guardians's belongings." Alone together I would have giggled at his impersonation of mother's overly regal voice, but now it was dangerous. You don't belittle mother, especially to her face. 

"Your sister isn't committing treason!" Amir's entire body is lifted from the floor and thrown to the wall. His head hits the marble wall with a loud thud. My small yelp is covered by mother's gasp. "Amir!" She kneels beside his limp body. Mother's hand glows gold and Amir weakly lifts an arm to push mother away. It takes a minute for her gift to properly heal him, but the moment he has strength he shouts it.

"Don't touch me!" He shoves her off. "I spoke my opinion mother, if anyones a traitor it's you!"

He holds the back of his head while glowering our mother down. He hisses and draws his hand away from the wound but there's no blood. There never is. 

"So it is true. You never forgave me." Her voice is melancholic. There is only regret and sadness, and she makes us live with it for the rest of our lives. 

"Forgave you? Mother you fucked the enemy and then made abominations! Our god's blood is polluted with her killer's! And you want me to be proud of that?"

"Amir stop." Mother buries her face in her palms.

"Father would not have stood for this," he gets to his feet and towers over her. 

"Your father wanted this! He asked for this! He asked for her! If you don't want to believe it then fine but you don't get to sit at her side and advise her when you can't even stand her existence."

"What are you talking about? Are you revoking my title?" His shouts echo through the halls, the guards must have heard them by now. 

"Amir, after the coronation you'll pack your belongings and head to the temple and study with the guardians. You will hold no title, no child born to you will hold a title, you will never have conversation with Mathilda again. Her safety is of concern and you mean her ill will. The title of advisor will either go to your youngest sister or the current advisor's child." She stands on her feet, and though she may be four inches shorter than Amir, she will always be bigger than he. 

"You can't do that, that's not for you to order. Mathilda has the last say on any of that." He gets closer but she doesn't back away.

"Now you want your sister? After calling on her impurities? Prince Amir reveals your god." Mother holds out her hand and Amir steps away, protecting his chest. I emerge from my hiding but neither notice me. 

"No, you can't take this too. You can't take this from me!" Tears flow from his eyes and he chokes through a sob.

"It was a question from your mother, it was an order from your Queen. Either you can give him to me or I can rip him out of you." She steps menacingly closer. He's backed into the wall and lightning crackles at the corner of his eyes. He doesn't release a bolt however, mother is much stronger than him. 

"No! Go away!" 

"You're no longer a child! Accept your punishment with dignity like a prince!" She roars and plunges her right hand through his chest. His chest glows green and all he can do to resist her is weakly grip at her wrist. With a sharp tug a small dragon is yanked out of his chest. He falls to the floor breathless and wheezing. 

"Mom no, please. Mom, he's all I have left." Amir bows his forehead to the floor and places his palms flat on the floor. 

"Amir Charas, first prince of the Balanced empire, Caduceus, guardian of Prince Amir Charas." She tightens her grip on the bright blue dragon in her grasp and the small thing can only writhe and screech in agony. Amir screams with it. "I HEREBY ORDER YOUR GUARDIANSHIP NU-"

"Enough!" I shout and run to my mother's side and remove the dragon from her tight grasp. Amir's head snaps up and watches my actions in confusion. "Your title and position is safe Amir. I cradle the small dragon close and kneel for Amir to receive him."

"You can't make those decisions Mathilda. You are still just a pri- '' mother gently patronizes me and places a trembling hand on my shoulder. 

Something more than me washed over me that morning. It was me and her. "I am a god. Your titles and names and pathetic excuses for control have no claim over me." We say. 

Amir pulls caduceus close and then two bow their heads before us. Mother however oggles at our existence. "But-" 

"Queen Aine and godling Basil, your guardianship is no longer needed. Basil, you are free from your promise. Wander the stars with freedom." We take no pause and we wait for no rebuttal. Basil the white dragon emerges from mother's chest with a scream and flies to the heavens. Mother screams with pain and holds herself close. Amir raises his head and looks on in horror. 

"Mathilda what did you do?" And like that the more of me is gone. 

"I-I-I don't know. She was hurting you. This was right, she told me it was. The pained screams finally notified the guards to a disturbance. As subtly as he can Amir returns Caduceus to his chest and backs away from the scene. Neither of us move to aid our pained mother, neither of us know if we should. 

When the guards arrive they shout questions we cannot answer and demand to know actions they have no say over. Finally father sprints down the hall and falls to mother's side. I feel Amir hide behind me and pull me closer.  
"What happened?" He demands. 

"I- I- dont know. She just fell in pain." And barely mumble. If there was a prize for the worst lie, that one shouldn't have taken the metal. 

In father's arms, mother's backbends in unnatural ways and the color from her eyes and hair melt away. Father pets her hair trying to call for her attention. She falls unconscious just as the royal medic arrives and they carry mother away to her room. Amir and I are left in the hallway, staring at the floor trying to put together what just happened. 

After an hour passes by there is the sound of a larger door opening, the sounds of cheering, and the sounds of our little sister, Philomena, calling for us. Our little brother follows close behind like the ever faithful twin he is. He carries in two swords addressing a prince and princess. Their royal garbs match Amir's white and gold. The clothing of celebration is paired with my light blue and orange trimmed coronation gown. Lilou and Phil hand us our swords and we adjust them to our uniform. Neither I or Amir move out of sync, we have made a nonvocal vow not to speak of the earlier event. 

"Have you seen mother or father? We were supposed to meet them in the throne room by now." Phil asks with her ever characteristic irritation as always. 

"They said they'll meet us at the coronation." Amir says in perfect calm. 

My heart races and I can't catch my breath.

"That's weird, mother said she wanted to walk you down to the elders." Lilou comments quietly. But even if he spoke louder, I would not have heard him. The severity of my actions were sinking in and I could not show my face that night. 

"Im escorting her, so I asked my mother if I could do it instead. It's only fitting that the empress and her advisor address the people. Don't you think?" Amir smiles like not just sixty minutes ago we removed a part of our mother's soul. 

"You mean you just can't stop the big brother act." Phil laughs and jabs at his arm. He laughs and rubs his sore arm. 

"What can I say. I promised the three of you that I'd be by your side no matter what." He ruffles my hair. 

"You ok?" Lilou mumbles to me. 

"Just butterflies you know?" I try to laugh and act normal like Amir but I fear that I made it worse. Philomena believes it to be nerves however and gives us a hearty laugh.

"Come on let's go, they're all waiting for you." Amir smiles gently and pushes me forward. The sun shines brighter and hotter as we move further down like the steps into a lava pit. 

There's cheers and applause while the twins take their seats on the balcony overlooking the lands. Among them are the elders and council with the crown and traditional paintings. Amir and I stay out in the hallway taking in our breath before moving on. "Amir-"

"Shhhh, you are Empress now, no one can hurt you." He gently places a hand on my cheek and wipes the tears from my eyes. I feel myself bury my cheek deeper into his soft and warm hand. But I can't stay like this, I know more. There will always be more. She tells me that. My guardian, she says to remember mother's words and to be wary. But it's Amir, he's sworn an oath to the vessel of our creator. He's sworn to me. He is my older brother but as of now i don't know that anymore. 

"Please Amir, before we got there?" The arm holding mine grows tighter almost impatiently. 

"Mathilda we're keeping our people waiting." He laughs, but no amusement ever reaches his eyes.

"Just one question, before we walk out there, and everything changes. I need to know." I pause, the question lodges in my throat. My throat sears with the pain of having to ask it. 

"Yes?" He loses his smile as concern clouds his emotions. 

The pressure builds up and my throat cannot contain the burn any longer so it shoots out, "Do you hate me?" 

His purple eyes cloud, with what I did not know at the time. Today as much as I didnt, I know, and those eyes haunt me every day. The way his bushy eyebrows identical to mine furrow with what I thought was anger that I dared ask the question. "Mathilda what-"

"Do you hate me, for taking your right to the crown?" The tears are flowing and they wont stop. "Do you even see me as your sister?" My birth wasn't always seen as the glorious gift bestowed upon our lands. In fact it was a disgusting scandal that nearly cost my mother the crown. I was born a bastard child to a dragon vessel mother and a human father. Amir was born years before me to the king before father. My mother had been married to a traditional vessel man but he was killed by a human invader. Father was one of them and stopped the death of our mother and our people. Still he was not seen as a hero to our people. He was imprisoned of course but within 10 months he appeared at my mother's side with no questions allowed. And soon, I was born to the already rebelling empire. A week later I proved to be a vessel of not just any god. But our creator, this world's creator lives within me and that small fact stopped the civil war but it also removed Amir from the line of power. Every couple generations a creator vessel is born and takes immediate rule of the land, Amir had no choice in the matter. 

But none of that matters, what matters is that no one ever asked him, "do you still want the crown?"

"No," the no is choked on, like it was painful to admit. "Mathilda you are my sister regardless of father. I don't envy you sister, you have to do the paperwork." We laugh, eyes full of tears and we hold each other. Of course there are many gasps as it is Amir who guides me to the balcony and it is Amir who helps me with the ceremony of crowning and the tattooing. Philomena and lilou desperately try to get answers from attendants on the whereabouts of the queen and king to no avail. The crowds rumble with hushed whispers but continue to allow the ceremony to finish. 

I lay my head and arms out on the banister, my long azure hair is pinned to the top of my head. An elder recites the promises i am to make to our people and our creations, meanwhile another elder hands Amir an orange blade. With it he makes a small tear from the top of my gown till it cuts 4 inches down. From there a square is cut exposing the nape of my to just the height of my shoulders. 

Another elder brings out a copper bowl and Amir dips the blade into the orange ink inside. "Holy creator of our land, show your promise to your people. Allow me to carve this promise into our skin as evidence of your word." With a golden glow, Cyrus emerged from my chest and stood opposite to Amir.

The crowd gaps in awe as their deities forms. It had been 50 years since the last vessel breathed. She is Cyrus, Dragon of Creation, creator of Charis. She stands at least 7 feet with parts of her body sectioned as dark as the void, parts of it in flesh colored with a dark grey, and parts of her simply sheen with the rainbow as if looking into the refracted light of a jewel. Her hair parts in the middle with one half flowing with the dark void and the half flowing with the rainbow. Her rainbow irises meet mine and she smiles. I feel no worries or harm, she is here to protect me and I her. Her beautiful lithe fingers brushed the tears I hadn't noticed.

"Small child of the vessels, thank you for our protection. You protect us as kindly as your ancestor had done many years before. To all of you," she looks at our people with tenderness. "Thank you." She takes a bowl of water from an elder and pours the warmth of my back. Amir reaches out the hand with the knife and Cyrus places her hand on his. Together with light, even, strokes they engrave my promise to the people and cyrus. It's painful and tears well up but I do not allow them to fall, not for this. 

When they finish both hold an edge of the tunic I wear and I turn to the crowd in show of the evidence. A royale cap is thrown on my shoulder and Cyrus turns to show the same inscription on her back, my back beads with blood as does hers but her blood is not red it is in fact gold. 

We bow to the crowd and the rest of the ceremony continues to unfold. But the rest is a blur. I don't remember the circlet being placed or the ceremonial paint placed on my cheeks. I simply let it happen and Cyrus held my hand the whole way through. She knows there is something wrong with me but the moment wasn't right to ask. I decree the start of the 3 day festivities and we break off for the feast. Cyrus returns to her place in my heart, and I'm easily knocked aside by my fuming father.

"Amir!" He growls and lifts him by the throat in front of the entire empire. "What did you do?" He bellows to the silent wind.

Amir scratches and kicks but refuses to use his lightning gift on him. "Put him down!" I order. The guards stand nearby unable to know who to follow. 

"You tried to kill her!" He accused.

Amir's wheezed and mouthed inaudible words and eventually his eyes slowly started to roll back. "Stop now!" I scream and set his hand fire. Amir falls to the floor gasping and clutching at his throat. "Guards!" I call and they line to my voice.

"Mathilda, he tried to kill her!" My father screamed.

"Guards, my mother's health is not helping with my fathers sanity please escort him back to my mothers side." They bow easily and pull my screaming father through the halls. As soon as they're out of sight, I fall to my knees and assess Amir's damage. He knocks away my irritating hands and sits up. "I-I don't know what to do, what will they do when they find out I did it!"

Amir stares at the ground with empty care. When he speaks there's little conviction behind his voice, "lets go to the banquet and have fun." He rises and pulls me up. 

At what point was the night that followed supposed to be fun?


	4. Starting out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abuse warning, if abuse or manipulation are a trigger of yours please reconsider reading.

The noise and clapping and jumping. It was so much simpler when it was so quiet and the lack of noise made everything safer. I used to love the clumsy way you’d come tumbling down the hall in excitement to tell me something new or the high-pitched laughter triggered from you simply being happy that the day is bright and beautiful. But now it’s obnoxious and uncalled for. It's fake and you’re trying to bring back the sun when it just wants to be night. You’re selfishly trying to make yourself feel better. But now it’s starting to look like it's always been fake, the smiles and the laughs were always there to mask how scared you were.  
The teeth disappear and the grin slips just gently but it is still so annoyingly present to taunt me.   
“Get out.” It’s a simple command, a fucking puppy can understand it. And yet you still sit there mocking my patience with the“but’s” and the “please.”   
Storms thunder in my stomach and shoot like rockets into my hands. The nearest thing to me is a book on druid beliefs, it finds itself embedded into the wall opposite of me. That was mean.   
No, that was necessary, it was like somebody dialed down the noise with a knob. This is weird, but this feels… right? So I do it again but I absorb the noise and make it louder and my own. That putrid smile is wiped clean and I know I’ve won. You tentatively stand without a word, and you leave.

Hours pass and the guilt sets in. I’m an adult now and I have a duty to see to your every need. But that feels so wrong now. This me is a better me. Do I scare you now? It's day 3 since I rehomed my books and the noise still hasn’t returned. You’re doing such a good job but the sulking is starting to get on my nerves. Some productivity should keep us nice and comfortable. So i say what needs to be said. The smile returns but it’s a fair trade for something to get done around here.   
But it doesn’t take long for you to forget. So you need a reminder of what storms are. I’ve said my speeches and I’ve begged for your attention so now maybe it's time I speak in a way that translates better for you. And I am so happy to accommodate for your needs. You break the rules here and there but I grow my teeth and I grow my horns and you remember my face. 

Week 3 with my new face and we sit in silence, it’s quite an achievement. Then you sit close so we stare, you know like you’ve forgotten my face.   
“Are you there?” “What happened?” “Where are you?” Moronic questions every single one. I never left, I’ve always been here but now I’m not shy anymore. I answer with my horns again and you remember the answers to your questions again. And then they fall off for a minute, just a minute. But you’re quick to remind me where they belong. 

Month 2 and you ask again where I am. Honey I’m right here. I’m still here. I grab your shoulders and I attempt to shake the memories back into you. But nothing gets absorbed, just rotted and passed through. So I translate my language with the use of your noise, and everything breaks. It starts with you shoving me away so I lose my balance and hit my head on the table. When I come to you’re not there anymore and I nearly let it go. But then fear tears at my stomach walls, what if you forget about my face again I don't want you to forget me. I don't have to search for too long, you were never as good at hide and seek like I led you to believe. One swift kick and your barriers fall uselessly away.  
But I falter.  
The covers are pushed around your bed to make it look like you just didn’t make your bed. It’s brilliant because you know I know you to be messy. And you almost get away with it, but you couldn’t keep still enough. My single footstep on that creaky board from when you dropped the book case there, it startles both of us but it helps me more than you. When the covers are pulled you’re just a rock with your head covered. You tricked me into keeping my horns concealed but you’re stupider than you look if you think that’s really true. I just sit and we talk but you’re not listening again so i make you the false promises you want to hear and I leave.

We start a dance of this daily and you bring back the noise and mocking grins until one day you try to grow horns too. Like it’s easy. Like you know what you’re doing. Who the fuck do you think you are trying to play my game. I stop the with dances and the chasing and remind the both of us what my face looks like. This time I mark you with reminders so it’s harder to forget, but we both know it’s not enough. The time is shorter and again you try out those horns again and learn my language, it must be the age. So I grow mine bigger and I take your breath, this time you nearly don’t come back and it changes you. There’s no more noise, no more tiny horns, no more grins, now you’ve learned how to run. I like it better this way. We know our faces now but every now and again a picture is needed, and I’m always happy to oblige.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was in the pov of the antagonist Amir


End file.
